


arms above the head

by WattStalf



Series: Medical Malpractice OTP [15]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Masturbation, Omorashi, PWP, intentional desperation, its my 300th fic funstravaganza, male omorashi, so i decided to be very very self indulgent, this is really filthy and im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8022265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/pseuds/WattStalf
Summary: Well, I hope it's no problem that I had to have you all to myself as soon as you got home.





	arms above the head

**Author's Note:**

> It's my 300th fic so I wrote more piss with this OTP. Specifically directly involving Shingen this time because I am trash for that man. I was self-indulgent, but that's what I always do with milestones. We'll see what happens if I ever reach a 400th fic, but I'm sure you're all praying that I never do.

Emilia likes it when she's strapped down to an examination table; she likes the harsh light and the bright room and the sterile smell and the overall clinical feel of it all. She likes having a doctor for a husband because she moved through school quickly, and by the time she began coming into herself and her sexuality, the majority of her time was spent in labs and exam rooms, getting her necessary experience for her career. It makes perfect sense to her that she ended up developing such a fondness for it, and she enjoys the times when Shingen gives her little check-ups, and she especially enjoys when he has her strapped down.

But that is something she only enjoys being performed on her. _She_ likes to play the role of the patient, and she likes it when _she_ is the one completely at his mercy when they're in an examination room. The kink does not go both ways for her, and she harbors no fantasies of casting that light down on him while she pretends to figure out what's ailing him, or trailing a scalpel down his skin, or having him call her _doctor_.

That isn't to say she doesn't have a side to her that likes to be in control of what they do, however. She is by no means exclusively submissive, she just prefers to exercise this side of her in less clinical means. When he is not playing doctor and when she takes the lead, she doesn't rely on something fancy like their exam table's straps to hold him still; Emilia prefers to tie him up in their bedroom with plain old rope.

Shingen always has something to say about this, wondering why she prefers things so differently when the roles are reversed, but he's never once complained and is always more than happy to go along with whatever it is that his wife wants. One evening, she ambushes him on his way in from work, ready to take just that.

Though “ambush” is a bit of an exaggeration; she was sitting close to the door and could hear his keys, so she went to stand by it and when the door opened, she was hidden from sight as Shingen entered their home. That left her the opening to run up behind him and pin his arms behind his back, and even though he was more than capable of fighting her off, he didn't. And so she was able to lead him to their bedroom, where she had rope waiting for him, and he let her tie his hands to the headboard and sat on his knees, waiting for whatever she had in store.

She smiles at him all too innocently, and he makes a show of struggling with the rope, just to let her know that he isn't getting out any time soon. He once thought that he could probably get out of the rope if he really tried, but now he isn't so sure; Emilia is getting very good at her knots, and he's never had the most upper body strength. Whatever the case, he  _trusts_ her, and it's all in good fun, so he doesn't think there will ever be a time that he wants out of her bonds anyway.

“How was work?” she asks, so casually that he almost laughs.

“How was your day off?” he replies. “Have you been busy?”

“I'm sure you can tell!” Her smile grows. “But, really, how was your day? Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when we don't work together,” he says. “It's incredibly boring without you there to distract me, but it looks like you're trying to make today a little more exciting for the both of us.” They carry on this conversation as if she doesn't have him tied up, but when her expression shifts, he knows that she's about to change the subject to something a little bit more relevant.

“I bet you've been busy though,” she murmurs. “Maybe even a little too busy...” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, he becomes incredibly aware of the dull ache in his bladder. Of _course_ that was her angle for the night; his habit of visiting the bathroom as soon as he got home from work was just that- a habit. He didn't think much of it, nor did he ever think about the possibility of his routine getting interrupted, but he's known that Emilia was into holding since before they were even married. Now, it seems she wants to experiment with being on the other side of that.

“Incredibly busy, you know how demanding my work is,” he says, and starts to try to wave a hand, but then he remembers that they're bound above his hands. His arms are going to get tired soon, but he doesn't mind that part.

“Well, I hope it's no problem that I had to have you all to myself as soon as you got home,” she coos, but there's a devious glint in her eyes that says she very much hopes that it becomes a problem, and quickly. And when he takes into account how long it's been since he last visited a bathroom, he's sure that his wife won't be disappointed.

Emilia climbs onto the bed, crawling on her hands and knees to meet him. She pulls his mask off, ignoring his protests as she sets it aside. He always lets her get away with that, because if he didn't, she wouldn't be able to lean forward and press her lips against his. She wraps her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling herself onto him until her body is pressing hard against him.

Kissing her is nice, it's always  _really_ nice, but at this particular moment, he's more aware of the way she's leaning into him, applying pressure to his bladder and making his need much more apparent. He winces and she breaks the kiss, smiling at him knowingly and pressing her forehead against him. She doesn't move, doesn't pull back, and he groans quietly, letting her know that she's having quite the effect on him. Of course, it isn't just the pressure being added that's affecting him, and he can feel himself growing hard from her closeness alone. At the very least, that will help him hold out just a little bit longer, even if he's getting to the point where holding back is becoming agonizing.

When Emilia finally does pull back, it's so that she can unfasted his pants and she takes him in hand, working her hand up and down until he's completely hard for her. Shingen groans at her touch, jerking his hips into her hand, but she lets go of him and flashes a teasing grin.

“Sorry,” she says, “but I just wanted to make sure that you were plenty excited before we _really_ got started.” 

_Have we not started already?!_ he asks himself, and she leans forward to get him back in his pants. His erection strains painfully against the fabric, and he scolds himself for thinking that she would go easy on him in this regard just because she was tormenting him in another. She's always been an incredible tease, and even now, when she's using his full bladder against him, she isn't going to hold back.

Sitting back on the bed, she shrugs her lab coat- which, just like him, she wears even when she's just sitting around the house- off slowly, throwing it off to the side before pull her shirt over her head. She discards her stethoscope more carefully, and shifts her position so that she can take off her pants, and then her panties. Once she's completely naked, she sits back in a way that gives him a very clear view and pouts at him in a way that's honestly more cute than sexy. It has the same effect either way, and he isn't sure which pain in more persistent- that of his arousal or that of his growing desperation. He squirms, tugging his wrists and feeling the rope bite into him, and now he's a bit more bothered by how sore his arms are getting.

His wife spreads her legs and drops a hand between them, whimpering at her own touch and biting her lower lip. She lowers her eyelids and cups one of her breast in her free hand, and he's not sure how he's going to endure all of this at the same time. Taking her nipple between two of her fingers, she pinches and pulls and plays, her breath turning to a hiss for a moment before she begins moaning theatrically, just to drive him wild, he's sure.

She keeps that up for some time, while her other hand stays between her legs, fingering herself while stroking at her clit with her thumb. Even if she's playing this up for his sake, he can tell that she's enjoying this a lot, and is nearing her own limit. He wants to hope that he will be able to hold back from his, but he's so goddamn full and it's getting harder and harder to concentrate. Shingen tries his damnedest to watch her bringing herself closer and closer, and for a moment, he is able to truly enjoy it.

But the pangs in his bladder grow more and more intense as he watches her, breathing his name and taunting him with being so close yet so far. He's so full that he feels like a simple poke to the stomach might cause him to burst, and he is sweating and shaking and he writhes, rubbing his legs together. This would have helped a lot more if he'd had his hands free to grab himself, but he doesn't, and he can't take much more of this. He's felt the nagging need to piss since that afternoon, and though it wasn't particularly bad until almost time to go home, it's nearly unbearable now

“I'm not...” He groans. “I'm not going to last much longer.” He can feel his erection fading, despite her incredibly erotic display, his body doing all it can to keep him from rupturing something.

“Aw, you don't think you can keep holding it for me?” she teases, her voice so sweet that it's taunting in it's own regard. For a moment, she pauses, but then she shrugs and resumes pleasuring herself, her moans even louder this time. She's putting on quite the show for him, but even that is not enough to distract him from the absolute agony his desperation is causing him.

It's too much, it's beyond the point of too much, and even with Emilia right in front of him, he can only think about how badly he needs to piss, how much it hurts, how hard his body is straining and how he is going to lose this fight. And that's alright because that's been the plan from the beginning, but even though his resistance has only been for the sake of her enjoyment, he still feels as though his pride will be wounded once he loses control.

After all, it's his first time doing something like this, and even if he knew this day was coming and even if he and Emilia have enjoyed it when she's been the one pushed to this point, it's hard to set aside those sorts of inhibitions. There's a humiliation that comes with being on the verge of pissing himself, with knowing that he's  _going_ to piss himself whether he wants to or not, that he is not able to shake. And she loves it and he knows that she loves it, and that makes it all the more thrilling and he knows that, if his body weren't resisting so much, he would be on his way to being hard again by now.

But instead, he's barely able to breathe and entirely unable to sit still, his thighs squeezing together in a futile attempt to alleviate the pressure. It's the end of the line for him, and he knows it, and he clenches his fists above his head as he puts forth all of his effort into just holding on for a moment longer. Emilia is no longer putting on a show for him, and is now pleasuring herself simply because she's so entranced by the sight in front of her, and he can feel his face growing warmer and warmer, both from the strain and the humiliation of what he is about to do. The very last thing he does before all control is lost is let out a strangled, pathetic whimper.

“Ooh,” Emilia breathes, as he feels the hot rush of liquid flooding his dark pants so quickly that she can see it soaking through the fabric, spreading out and down until it soaks into the bed sheets and his knees grow very, very wet. He groans, so relieved that he almost forgets the slight embarrassment nagging at him, and he closes his eyes, letting that relief wash over him as he pisses himself for his wife. She keeps making delighted sounds as he relaxes- or, relaxes as much as he can with his arms still above his head, aching- and this goes on for over forty seconds before he finally feels completely empty.

All that is left is a dull ache to remind him how long he pushed himself, and the finally of relief coupled with the sight that awaits him when he opens his eyes, is enough to bring him back, achingly hard almost immediately. Emilia fingers herself and whimpers so beautiful, her face flushed and her back arched, and he is able to watch this while knowing that it's all for him and the little performance she made him put on.

“Please,” he says, and he blushes anew when he hears how raspy, how _needy_ his voice sounds. “Haven't I suffered enough for you, pumpkin?”

She doesn't answer until she's done, crying out with her orgasm and taking a few moments to drink in the afterglow, but when she does, it's with a bright smile. “I think you've done very good,” she says. “I think you've earned being untied for a little while!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I am simultaneously sorry for everything and not sorry at all


End file.
